


Candlelight

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Series: Idrelle's Holiday Fanfic Gifts 2017 [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Library Sex, Love, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: Though Iwyn has buried herself in researching Corypheus, even she needs a break from saving the world sometimes. Solas can help with that.





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Viking_woman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viking_woman/gifts).



> Holiday gift for [@thevikingwoman](http://thevikingwoman.tumblr.com/), who is amazingly supportive of other fanfic writers and is a fantastic writer herself. Iwyn is her OC (I hope I got her right). I don't write smut very often, so I hope this is OK. Call it an experiment. :-P 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

Iwyn stares at the candle. 

 _Don’t you dare. Don’t you DARE…_  

But the candle is beyond her control. As she watches, a clump of melting wax escapes, sliding down the candle’s sides and dripping over the edge of the candlestick. She sighs and decides to let it go. Some battles are not worth fighting. 

Instead, she leans back and runs her hands through her loose hair, scraping it back from her forehead. She twists it into a loop and tucks the end under, wishing she had not forgotten a hair tie. The bun will unravel again in time, but she needs her hair out of her face to concentrate. It has been quite the evening and she’s nowhere close to finishing. Her hair out of the way, Iwyn scrunches her face, scoots closer to her table and returns to her book, quill in hand. 

It is not uncommon to see Iwyn with her nose in a book. But with Corypheus’ next steps unknown and the situation in Orlais barely under control, she and Leliana agreed they needed to know more about their enemy. If their spies can’t infiltrate Corypheus’ camps to suss out his next move, then they will have to rely on guesswork to ensure they can counter him when he did. The more they know, the more they can predict. And so, Iwyn has reluctantly set aside her novels and dived headfirst into a more academically-inclined kind of reading. 

She is even taking notes. 

Iwyn groans and rubs her forehead. The books are tedious and their tiny, cramped print hurts her eyes. But she wants to finish compiling her notes on this tome tonight. If she doesn’t, she fears she will never return to it out of frustration. 

The candlelight flickers. Iwyn dusts the page with the feathered end of her quill and chews her lower lip. It’s late. Very late. Her candles have almost burned all the way down. There’s so much wax on the table that she knows the perpetually anxious bookkeeper will have a fit when he sees it tomorrow morning. She’s not sure how she feels about that. She doesn’t want to cause him anguish, but he _did_ insist she retrieve all forty-eight copies of _Hard in Hightown_ scattered around the castle and she hasn’t quite forgiven him. 

Her bun has come loose and a long strand of hair falls into her face. She expels a puff of air and blows it out of the way. 

 _Concentrate…_  

She closes her eyes, wishing desperately that she had found a more convenient time to embark on this academic journey. But this is where she is and it’s her own fault for landing herself here… 

Her hair brushes the back of her neck. It’s soothing and feels pleasant. She sighs and leans back, reaching up to pull back her hair again.

Her hands brush against Solas’ fingers. 

She knows it’s his fingers. She has spent more than enough time studying his hands, she knows the shape and feel down to every exquisite detail. She loves his hands. There’s something magical about them, in both a literal and figurative manner. 

Iwyn smirks as she remembers the last time Solas’ magic and his fingers were connected in the same moment. She wasn’t entirely convinced it was the most pleasurable evening of her life, but it ranked fairly high on her list. 

Iwyn grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Are you trying to sneak up on me?” 

“I would never dare,” he replies. “Your instincts are far too aware for anyone to sneak up on you. I merely here to see how you fare after your long night of study.” His hands return to her hair and he scratches the nape of her neck. 

A shiver runs down Iwyn’s spine. “Mmm,” she says, closing her eyes and giving into the head massage. “My candles are dying.” 

“I can see that.” His fingers stroke down her scalp, digging in just slightly. 

“My hands are covered in ink.” 

“I can see that, too.” He runs his fingers backwards from her temples and around her ears. 

“I can’t understand the difference between an altus and a magister anymore.” 

“Dorian would be ashamed of you.” 

“Dorian hasn’t been studying Tevinter texts for seven hours.” 

“Perhaps you should consider stopping.” 

“Mmm… maybe I should.” Iwyn sighs happily, her head and spine tingling from the massage. “But I need to finish this tonight—why did you stop?” 

Solas has withdrawn his hands. “I admire your persistence, vhenan,” he says, “but studying into the late hours of the night is not a healthy habit to acquire.” 

Iwyn raises an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience?” 

“I’d rather not say.” 

Iwyn taps her book with her quill. “Even if I stop reading now, I still have to go over my notes…” She groans and throws her head back. “What I need is a way to restore my focus—” 

“Focus?” He rubbed her shoulders, gently squeezing the sore muscles. 

“Yes, focus, so I can think properly—” She squirms a little. “Whatever you’re doing, it feels wonderful.” 

“I thought so,” Solas says. He leans in and kisses her cheek. He lingers by her ear and murmurs into it. “The inevitable problem of sore shoulders and an aching neck is a tiresome one.” 

“Speaking from experience again?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Then do you have any quick solutions?” Iwyn says. She stares at the flickering candlelight. It wouldn’t be long before all her candles burned out… 

“Other than what I’m doing right now? Standing, moving, stretching...” 

“Mhm. Anything else?” 

“Physical activity—” 

Iwyn seizes his hands and pulls them down over her shoulders to rest on her breasts. “What kind of physical activity?” she says, coyly looking up at him. 

He smirks and slips a hand down her shirt. “Any kind,” he says, kissing her cheek very close to her ear. His tongue gently swirls around her earlobe and Iwyn’s breath hitches. His hand cups her breast, his thumb rubbing over her taut nipple. 

“Mmm… I can think of a few things,” she says. Her hand slips down the front of her trousers. She’s wet, she can feel it on her fingers. She rubs her clit, voice trembling as Solas squeezes her breasts, pinching at her nipples. 

He sucks on her ear and she’s screaming inside. “I can imagine,” he says, voice low.   

Solas drags her chair backwards and moves in front of her. Iwyn reaches up and hooks a hand around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Her mouth crushes his, hasty and open with anticipation, her tongue flicking lightly over his. His hands are already moving down her stomach, reaching for the laces of her trousers. His fingers are quick and nimble, and he has them undone in moments. She lifts her hips off the chair and he slides her trousers and smallclothes down. 

Iwyn sets her hands on his shoulders and pushes him down until he is kneeling in front of the chair. He runs his hands down her legs and parts them, slowly, audaciously. He kisses her inner left thigh, then the right. He kisses up and up, his hands holding her hips in place. She feels his breath against her sex and her stomach is knotted from anticipation.

 “You need to relax, vhenan,” he says, the curve of his lips turning upwards in a smirking smile. 

“You need to keep going,” she breathes. 

The first touch of his tongue is intoxicating. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her to the chair as he gently licks around her clit. Iwyn sighs, tingling all over as her pleasure builds. She catches a glimpse of the moon through the window by her table and she thinks of all the people in this castle, fast asleep. Or fucking. One of the two. But she and Solas are the only ones fucking in the library tonight. 

When he turns from licking to sucking, Iwyn moans and her hips buck against his hands. Her own hand sneaks under her shirt, pinching the nipple of her left breast. She’s close to coming, she can feel the pressure, the pleasure, the magic of her lover’s tongue. She glances down, smiling at the sight of him, and when she comes she lets her voice echo out through the library uncontained. 

“Pleased?” Solas asks, slightly breathless, from between her knees. “If anyone is in the rookery, they would have heard that.” 

Iwyn leans forwards and kisses him. She can taste herself on him. “That’s on them for staying and listening.” She pushes him back and slides off the chair. They are now both sitting on the floor. Iwyn kisses him, her hand against his cheek as she plants kisses from his lips to his jaw. 

“I see you’ve recovered your focus,” Solas says. 

“I’ve found something better to focus on,” Iwyn murmurs against his skin. She trails kisses down his neck.   

“I can see that.” 

Iwyn takes his hands in hers as she gets to her feet. “Stand up.” 

He does. “What now, vhenan?” he asks, kissing her. His mouth is hot and warm. 

Iwyn grins. “Anything we want.” 

She pushes him backwards until he bumps up against the table. She kisses him greedily, hungrily, her fingers tugging at the fabric of his shirt. She draws away momentarily to pull it off over his head and rakes her fingers over his chest and stomach. She places a hand against the hardened bulge in his trousers as she kisses him all over, hard and fast. Her fingers are undoing his trousers and she pushes them unceremoniously to the floor, eager to place her hands on his cock. He kisses her neck as she runs a thumb over the tip and groans into her ear as she seizes him more fully in her hands. She works up a sweat as she teases him, enjoying the feel of having him in her hand. He groans again and suddenly she places a hand against his mouth. 

“Not yet, ma lath,” she says. “Not yet. I have a better idea.” 

She can feel him grin against her hand. She releases him and sweeps the pile of books and parchment out of the way. She taps the table. 

“Up here.” 

He grins and sits on the table. Iwyn pushes against his chest and he flops back, giving into her. She hoists herself up on the table and straddles him, kissing his neck and jaw. The candlelight flickers and she wonders briefly about the safety of having sex on a table so close to a fire source… But at this point she doesn’t care. She likes to live dangerously. 

The candles are burning low anyway. 

Iwyn takes his cock in her hand and guides it into her. She licks her lip at his expression as he slides into her, filling her. The feel of him inside her is comforting, familiar, yet intoxicating. She shifts her weight, rolling her hips above him. His hands slide up her stomach and she tugs on her shirt, pulling it off and throwing on the floor. Her breasts bounce as she rocks and his hands reach for them, cupping them, reveling in the softness of her skin, luminously warm in the low candlelight. She moans, her head thrown back, her hair a messy halo about her face. Solas’ breath has become ragged, as is hers, and his eyes rake over her naked body on top of him as she leads them both to their peak. 

He comes, then her, their voices ragged, their bodies heaving, dripping in sweat and ecstasy. Iwyn tilts forwards, slipping off him and pressing herself into his chest. She buries her face in his neck and he’s murmuring words in elven, his hands on her back, holding her tight. 

A wind blows through the library. The candles go out. 

In the darkness, Iwyn laughs. She chortles, her body shaking against Solas’, her voice echoing through the wide, empty space. 

“So much for studying,” she says.  


End file.
